


hypochondria;

by prouveyrac



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Hurt/Comfort, Hypochondria, M/M, heed warnings in author note, if that makes sense, this is very self indulgent bc i needed to write out my feelings, yes ik the title isn't creative it's bc it's not really meant to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 01:46:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14438847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prouveyrac/pseuds/prouveyrac
Summary: However, though, it was Logan who told him that stress would weaken his immune system, and Virgil had been stressed for weeks now. And if Virgil was getting sick because of his stress, he would only stress more about being stressed, therefore making him even more stressed and even more sick and he really couldn’t miss anymore classes because he already missed half a week in the beginning of the semester because of the flu and then there was the mental health day he took because he felt too sick and too nervous about feeling sick to leave the apartment and-Virgil cut his thoughts off with a grab of his water bottle from his nightstand. He sucked in a quick drink and only winced as it went down thickly with a sickening feeling.





	hypochondria;

**Author's Note:**

> so this is very self indulgent bc my hypochondria has always been a pain that i've been dealing with, but with 2018 it has gotten a lot worse. so i finally decided to write out my feelings using virgil and some moxiety that could be read as either platonic or romantic.
> 
> also, this is based off of my own personal experiences. i am not a professional, so don't take this fic as a way to properly deal with anxiety. i am not speaking on behalf of anyone else but myself, since everyone experiences this differently. i just really wanted to write out my feelings and experiences.
> 
> warnings: anxiety/hypochondria, mentions of illness, mentions of getting sick, some self-deprecating thoughts, some mentions of dying, nausea, mentions of food/eating

Virgil felt like, somewhere deep down inside him, he knew he probably wasn’t ~~dying~~ sick. The pounding in his head and behind his eyes was probably because of stress or fatigue or dehydration and not something-

Virgil swallowed thickly. He didn’t want to think about it.

He probably wasn’t sick.

Probably.

But then there was the part deeper inside of him, the part that creeped through his subconscious and whispered thoughts to him in the middle of the night when his stomach coiled or his chest hurt. A thought that said that something was very, very wrong. That something was very, very wrong and very incurable and that it was too late and that Virgil really didn’t know what was going on in his body and-

Virgil sucked in a deep breath that sounded more like a gasp.

The pounding in his head spread and turned into tight knots in his stomach.

It was fine. Everything was fine. He wasn’t sick (probably) and nothing was very, very wrong (probably) and he was just hungry (probably). He hadn’t eaten in a couple hours; he’d been so busy doing work, so it made sense for him to be hungry.

The thought of eating something just twisted his stomach tighter and nausea spread through his system.

Okay, maybe he wasn’t hungry. Maybe he was just stressed. Finals were coming up and he’d been up to his eyes in essays and readings and analyzations. It made perfect, reasonable sense for him to be stressed. Logan would be proud of Virgil for coming to this conclusion using logic and reason.

However, though, it was Logan who told him that stress would weaken his immune system, and Virgil had been stressed for weeks now. And if Virgil was getting sick because of his stress, he would only stress more about being stressed, therefore making him even more stressed and even more sick and he really couldn’t miss anymore classes because he already missed half a week in the beginning of the semester because of the flu and then there was the mental health day he took because he felt too sick and too nervous about feeling sick to leave the apartment and-

Virgil cut his thoughts off with a grab of his water bottle from his nightstand. He sucked in a quick drink and only winced as it went down thickly with a sickening feeling.

Okay, maybe everything wasn’t completely, totally, one-hundred-percent fine.

But still, whether or not he was sick was TBD.

(Totally believable dude).

He screwed the cap back onto his water bottle, his fumbling hands taking three tries to finally get it on straight. He placed it back on the nightstand, watching as his hands shook.

It wasn’t that this was an uncommon experience. Virgil was all too familiar with what it was like to spiral down in a cycle of ignorance because he really _didn’t_ know what was going on inside his body. He had spent countless nights, nervously staring at his phone screen with a racing heart and a twisted stomach, torn between looking up symptoms for anything because, on one hand, he’d know if he was okay, on the other, he’d know if he _wasn’t_. He’d gotten used to spending nights wide awake before doctor appointments, half terrified to death over what his results would be.

Perhaps that was the worst part, though. That Virgil expected all of this, was accustomed to all of this. By this point, he knew his thoughts were illogical; a headache, stomach pains, anything small that anyone could experience at anytime wasn’t enough to point towards anything. But that was the scariest part, no? The not knowing. The want to brush off his thoughts as just fears running wild, but there was always that constant thought in the back of Virgil’s head. That nagging voice telling him that he really couldn’t disregard anything because he didn’t know enough, and Virgil was a firm believer that what he didn’t know could definitely hurt him.

Virgil took a deep, shuddering breath— _in for four, hold for seven, out for eight_ —as he pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. He hated the burning he felt behind them, hated the tightness of his throat, but if he just stayed here, like this, eventually it would all go away and-

Virgil’s head snapped up when he heard the front door open. He glanced at the clock on his side table and flicked his thoughts through a couple of expletives; now was the time that Patton usually got home from classes and Virgil had told him yesterday that he’d bake cookies with him because Patton wanted to try a new recipe he found.

Virgil’s stomach turned at the thought of making food, let alone eating, and he worried his bottom lip. Shit. He _promised_ Patton that he would help him because Patton had been having a hard time recently, too, and he was _so_ excited when Virgil said he would. Now, of course, Virgil was just going to ruin everything because he was anxious. Just how he always did.

Well, if he (probably) wasn’t sick, then baking would be fine and he could always force his anxieties down and deal with them later, _especially_ if it was for Patton.

Virgil huffed out a sigh and pushed himself up off his bed. He slowly trudged out of his room, running a hand through his hair and pulling slightly at the ends.

He caught Patton just before his friend headed into his own room. The grin on his face at seeing Virgil only made Virgil feel worse because, even if he went through with their plans, he was going to ruin it because the mood would be off and-

“Hey Virge!” Patton beamed, waving Virgil to follow him as he went into his room. Virgil trailed behind, leaning in Patton’s open doorway. “How’s your day been?”

“Fine,” Virgil lied, shrugging, “Yours?”

“Oh, you know how it is, with finals coming up and everything,” Patton said, waving a hand as he cleared out his bag, “We’re almost there, though, right?”

Virgil couldn’t help but smile a small one back, even if Patton couldn’t see him as he rummaged through his bag. “You’re right, Pat.”

“I just need to freshen up, and then we can start baking! Luckily, we already have everything we need here so neither of us have to go out again, which is nice, y’know? The end of the semester is really tiring me out.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Virgil said, looking down as he scuffed his foot against the floor, “I’m just… not that hungry? Obviously I’ll still, like, make them with you, but I just won’t eat…” He trailed off and looked up only to see Patton looking back at him with furrowed eyebrows. “What?”

“Oh, nothing, Virge,” Patton quickly said, “That’s fine. Just… are you okay?”

Leave it to Patton to see through Virgil’s walls.

“Fine,” Virgil lied again, “Just tired. I have a lot of shit coming up soon and…” He trailed off again and shrugged. “Fine.”

Patton cast him a disbelieving look. “Okay,” he said slowly, straightening up from being hunched over his bag, “You know you can talk to me if you need to, though, right?” Before Virgil could even respond, Patton continued with a rushed, “Of course I’m not gonna force you to say anything! I just want you to know that I’m here for you but there’s no pressure or anything, just-”

“No, Pat, you’re good, I get it,” Virgil said. He then sighed and averted his eyes to anything in Patton’s room that wasn’t Patton. As his eyes trained on his friend’s bulletin board, covered in papers and colorful sticky notes, he swallowed thickly. Patton was already halfway there; might as well bring him up to speed.

Virgil huffed out another breath, blowing his bangs out of his eyes. “I’ve just been… anxious.”

Patton frowned. “About what, Virgil?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“I don’t know, just-” Virgil worried his bottom lip, wringing his hands out in front of him as he tried to find the right words. He didn’t want to blurt out the thoughts that had been running through his head for hours now, partly because he didn’t want to scare Patton, partly because he didn’t want to break the dam that was holding everything inside him. “I feel weird,” he finally forced out, hoping that Patton would get the point.

Patton, being _Patton_ and amazing and the best friend Virgil has ever had, nodded, his expression softening. “Okay,” he said quietly, “Do you want to talk about it? We can stay in here, or go to your room, or bring some blankets to the living room and-”

Virgil shook his head, frowning. “I don’t want to ruin our plans,” he admitted, “I know that you were excited about this and you’ve been having a rough time and it’s really not _that_ bad, it’s kinda stupid really, and just-”

The stern look Patton slid Virgil caused him to shut his mouth. “Virgil, what is it that you always tell me?”

“Patton-”

“ _Virgil._ ”

Virgil swallowed. “That what you feel isn’t bad or stupid,” he whispered.

Patton nodded with a soft smile. “And that goes for you, too, kiddo,” he said. Virgil typically would’ve interrupted by telling Patton that he was only two years younger than him, but he couldn’t really find it in him to quip back. “And, yeah, I was excited, but because I would be hanging out with you! We didn’t have to bake together _today_. It could be any day, as long as it’s with you when you’re feeling okay!”

“Okay,” Virgil said, his voice barely filling the room.

“Do you want to do this all another day and just talk now?”

Virgil nodded silently.

Patton smiled. “Okay,” he said. “Let me just get changed—here, you take these blankets-” Patton grabbed the armful of throw blankets he had at the end of his bed “-the AC’s on so it’s a bit chilly out there—take these and bring them out to the living room, and I’ll be out in just a sec, okay?”

Virgil nodded, wordlessly accepting the blankets. He backed out of Patton’s room, Patton throwing him one last grin before closing over the door.

Virgil walked to the couch in the living room, tossing the blankets on the end cushion before flopping down on the other side. He pulled his knees up to his chest, picking at his cuticles.

He hadn’t expected to talk about any of this at all today. Honestly, he rarely did. Most of the time, his thoughts fell on the more… morbid side of the spectrum. He always felt like talking about it would only make Patton, Roman, and Logan worry and himself just feel worse. If he did talk about it, it was usually after the fact and most likely combined with a bunch of self-deprecating jokes to lessen the weight of his thoughts.

But this was _Patton_. And Patton wanted to listen to him and… and maybe Virgil didn’t want to stay so silent anymore.

He looked up when Patton came out of his bedroom, clad in a hoodie Logan got him for his birthday and one of his many pairs of blue pajama pants. Patton flopped down on the other end of the couch, moving the blankets out from underneath him, before opening his arms up to Virgil in a wordless invite. Virgil only hesitated for a second before climbing over to Patton, lying down with his head resting on Patton’s chest. Virgil worked to calm his breathing as Patton situated the blankets over them.

“So, you feel ‘weird’ today,” Patton said quietly, using Virgil’s descriptor, though both knew what he was talking about.

Virgil nodded. “It’s just one of those days,” he said, “My… I have a headache and I just feel… weird and shaky and, like, I know it’s stupid but-”

“If you call your feelings stupid one more time I will flip you off this couch,” Patton threatened with no real bite to his words, “And then we’ll have another thing on our hands because I’d feel bad and the blankets would be on the floor and it would be a mess.”

Virgil huffed out a laugh. “Alright, I won’t do that anymore,” he said, “It’s just… it’s annoying. And awful. Like, I… I know—or, at least, I think—that I’m not sick. But, you know how it is, I get one thought in my head and it just gets worse before it even starts to get better. And then everything just gets even _worse_ because I feel even more terrible and I can’t tell if what I’m feeling is real or something I’m just feeling because I’m thinking about it and...” He trailed off and gave a weak shrug.

“Well, you said you feel shaky,” Patton said, “Have you eaten in a while?”

Virgil shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Do you feel like you’re going to get sick if you do?” Patton gently ran a hand up and down Virgil’s back.

Virgil sighed. “I don’t know,” he said, “Like… hypochondria fucking sucks, Patton. It just… messes with me and my mind in the worst way possible because I don’t know anything that’s going on with me and-” he swallowed thickly and blinked repeatedly “-I can’t eat. I don’t know. I’m scared that, if I do, I’ll just get sick except now I’m stressed about my stress over getting sick so…”

“So you just don’t feel well at all,” Patton finished for him and Virgil nodded, sniffling. He rubbed forcefully at his eyes. He didn’t want to let any tears slip out; if he let that happen, things would only get worse because Virgil would just spiral down into something that would take him hours—probably the rest of the day—to get out of.

“Yeah,” Virgil whispered.

“Well, I think eating something light later might help you,” Patton said, “It might take away that shaky, gross feeling.”

“Maybe,” Virgil mumbled, tugging one of the blankets tighter around him. “I just… I hate feeling like this, you know? I hate getting a headache or feeling my stomach hurt or… anything, and just assuming the worst. Or maybe even not the worst. I just hate feeling like… like I’m always sick, like I have to base my entire life around some future illness.”

“I know, Virge,” Patton said, “I wish there was more I could do… more I could understand. But you know that I’m here for you. We all are. Logan can tell you all the science-y stuff and I’m sure Roman has a billion things that can distract you with when you feel down like this.”

Virgil nodded. “And you’re here.” A pause. “That helps a lot.”

Virgil looked up at Patton to see him smiling. “I’m glad, kiddo,” he said, “Anything I can do to help you. And, now I’m not saying anything is definite, but say you still don’t feel well in a day or two. If you choose to go to a doctor, I’ll go with you, if you want. Moral support and all.”

Virgil smiled slightly. “Thanks, Pat.” He then worried his bottom lip, his eyes flicking around the room. “Sorry, though… about all of this. I usually just… keep to myself about this. It just sometimes gets so morbid and, well, you guys shouldn’t have to deal with that. And it’s just so much of me freaking out and it’s st- it’s _a lot_ and-”

“Virgil,” Patton interrupted and Virgil snapped his mouth shut. “You never have to apologize for any of this. We’re your best friends. None of us want you dealing with this by yourself, especially if you’re hurting or scared. We all want to be there for you..”

Virgil was shocked to find that that was pushed tears to escaping from his eyes, one even slipping down his cheek and dripping down onto Patton’s hoodie. He quickly rubbed at his eyes, forcing out a choked, “Thanks.”

Patton gently rubbed Virgil’s back in return.

“Always, Virgil,” he murmured.

Virgil let his eyes slip shut as he took a deep breath— _in for four, hold for seven, out for eight_ —while Patton’s heartbeat served as a constant for Virgil, Patton’s gentle touch a reminder that he wasn’t alone, that someone was there for him.

**Author's Note:**

> ethospathoslogan.tumblr.com


End file.
